Sunday Church 

So yesterday I got abolsutely nothing done due to the snow storm that had already been in progress when I woke up and stopped a few hours before I went to sleep. But besides being trapped indoors, all of my energy and motivation had been drained, empty, and basically absent–like the sun in our sky that naturally conjures a sense of alertness. and drive in me during the day. Basically, my mood tends to correlate the the weather. Dark, cloudy, snowy day=tired, bleh mood. And everyone else being trapped indoors, the house was packed; thus, leaving no quiet and personal space to study, read, or get any quality work done. You see, I live with 7 other people. All family, with the exception of a farmer who rents the basement. Sounds a bit sketchy, but the basement has been renovated several times and it’s quite nice. And the farmer, who I’ll name Marcus, is basically a part of our family. Being the only mexican, the others make a joke once in a while. But me being the “whitest” in the family, he knows he’s not the only outlier. 
Okay, I’ve gotten completely off track. 

Today we went to church. Even writing the sentence is weird to me. Every few years my mother and I randomly happen to go to Church. However, for the first time, I was actually interested. And it felt…nice. I thought of my grandma most of the time and memories from my time in church as a child flooded back.Of course I was always with ny grandmother, who was always quite religious. I actually think that I might regularly go from now on. But I worry that my reasons might not be “right”. Personally I’m not religous. But in church, it felt peaceful. I felt like I was with my grandmother, and if she could see me, how proud she would be. I believe in most of what her religion preaches. I’m just not competely confident in the validity of the origin of the stories, of where everything comes from, or that someone or something superior than all has the ability to decide what is right and wrong, and who is to live or die, or how we should live and think. I believe in learning from experiences and deciding what is right or wrong due to our own logic and memories and feelings… Not because we are told to. But I guess that’s how is starts. We aren’t necessarily born with the concept of sharing or curtisy embedded biologically in our minds. 

I’m still conpletely off topic. And I realize that a lot of people probably won’t agree with what I believe. I might be naive or a bit ignorant…

Okay. I’ll try again. I’ll go to church. I’ll truely listen and open my head and heart for atleast fourty five minutes. And hopefully I’ll take something from it. Because to truly make my grandmother proud of me, would be to go for myself. To go with an open mind. And at the very least, I’ll leave with more knowledge and first hand experience of the religion,  and with the comforting nostalgia of my grandmother–and coffee (I heard they have some pastries and coffee afterwards). The people were also very friendly and welcoming, that was nice too. And I realize now…that was probably the longest time I wasn’t thinking and stressing about school work, and financial aid forms, and etc. 

My battery is at 14% left, so I’ll pause here for now. 

••My battery died before I could have posted this yesterday. Happy Monday! 

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